Ten
by rhododendron
Summary: Ten short unconnected drabbles, mostly character sketches, on the residents of the Duane Street Lodging House. R&R, please. Some mild slash, some gen, some present, & some canon.
1. Pattern

Title: Ten

Note: This was written as part of a LJ challenge/meme- basically, I put my iPod on shuffle & wrote a quick drabble while the song was playing. The end compilation is: ten chapters, a mix of canon & present, & includes the main characters from the movie. There are a few segments with very mild hints of slash.

Disclaimer: none of the songs are mine; Newsies isn't either.

**One**; Bliss - Syntax  
_all those feelings are just fear__  
when you're thrilled by ego hits__  
you think you're on a high__  
you should know deep down inside  
it never satisfies._

Spot knows running, knows sprinting down alleys and across docks, through warehouses and under piers, bright flashes of light piercing down through the boards onto his face. Knows the pattern of his breath more than anything, the absence of any sound except for the harsh gasping and the draw of air through his lungs. Knows the fear and knows that as many times as he ends up doing this, ends up running away, he'll never get used to it.


	2. Comprehension

**Two;** Let it Rain - OKGo

_vision blue and blurry,  
falling angels in a flurry,  
spinning through the empty room  
did you come here to dance?_

Race pulls the car into the driveway, looks across at Spot. The other boy gives him a quick glance, smirking slightly, forestalling any corny statements Racetrack was planning on making. He doesn't mind, understands the fact that the smirk means that _Spot _understands.

"Get out, dumbass." A fast grin, a light chuckle, and Spot's gone, walking to the door. It starts to rain as he leaves.


	3. Sin

**Three;** Funnyman - KT Tunstall

_and all the damage you do  
is so honest and true  
I don't want to feel sorry for you_

They're all watching him surreptitiously, peripheral vision and badly concealed stares, but he doesn't notice. He's barely more than a shadow, leaning on the end of one of the pilings on the docks, a cigarette loose in his lips. They've heard the rumors, the stories of blood and bone and- it's nothing new to the old ones, but there's always someone. He just wishes he'd had enough time to wash the red off his hands.


	4. Vintage

**Four;** Layla (Unplugged) - Eric Clapton

_let's make the best of the situation  
before I finally go insane._

Blink's couch has always been the most comfortable place Mush can remember. It doesn't matter that it looks like it's just barely survived the seventies; okay, so it's orange and patterned with dark green flowers, and yes, there are a few suspicious-looking stains, but, as he proclaimed loudly when Blink dared to complain- "It's got character." He's decided that the couch is maybe the best place in the entire world, and it has nothing to do with the fact that Blink's shoulder is innocuously brushing his, and their thighs touch every time he reaches for the popcorn.


	5. Progression

**Five;** Talk - Coldplay

_oh brother, I can't, I can't get through  
I've been trying hard to reach you, cause I don't know what to do  
oh brother, I can't believe it's true  
I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you_

David takes a moment to sit back in his chair, looks around the room. It's loud and hectic and crazy and it's home, though it's not where he sleeps. For the first time, he realizes that they're getting old. Still tall and lanky, but old, less like overgrown puppies, more like men. His throat tightens; his eyes find Jack's, and he knows, instantly knows, that Jack is thinking the exact same thing. Jack's thinking that it's the one thing he can't change, the one thing his jokes and his heart can't make better.


	6. Inhale

**Six;** Juke- Little Walter

_(harmonica instrumental)_

It's intermission at Medda's and Race is on stage, segueing solo. His harmonica is raised to his lips and and his face is screwed up, hands fluttering with the same turns and twists they make in the dim light at a card table. The breathy rhythm is coarse and Spot's thinking about the night before and Race's teeth on his collarbone. Race takes a moment to rest, wiping his lips with his sleeve and tapping the harp against his suspenders. Spot catches his eye and Race grins. Spot smiles back, a genuine, honest smile, and it's not a lot, but it's enough for now.


	7. Change

**Seven;** Bei Mir Bist du Schon - The Andrews Sisters

_I've tried to explain, bei mir bist du schon  
So kiss me, and say you understand_

Dutchy's one of the lucky few with family. He returns to the lodging house late Sunday night, slipping inside just as Kloppman goes to shut the door. His pockets are light, pennies and nickels gone, strewn on the wooden table at his mother's house. Specs is awake when he slides into bed, whistling softly. He wordlessly hands down a cigarette, lit, and Dutchy stops whistling long enough to take a deep drag and hand it back up. They don't speak; the song is plenty, and it's echoing in his head when he finally sleeps. The next morning, Specs wakes up with the tune on his lips.


	8. The Range

**Eight;** Wearer of Masks - Many Mansions

_I'm a wearer of masks  
you can try this one on  
you can teach me the words  
and I'll sing along  
_

Lying in bed, Jack's staring at the posters he's plastered to the underside of the mattress above him. Yellowed, peeling papers; the ink is smudged, but he knows what they say by heart anyway. Cowboys in hats and girls in bonnets; wide open, dry grass in every direction. New York was worth it, but it doesn't make it easier to live with.


	9. History

**Nine;** Black Blizzard - Jeff Beal

_(instrumental)_

The first thing wrong with the morning is the cold. Jack's thinking of a winter four years past, of a still, pale blue hand and black ink-stains, and when Kloppman comes to wake him he is already up, sitting on his bed and staring at the dirty snow and ice outside, blankets drawn over his shoulders. The second thing wrong with the morning is that no one leaves the lodging house; Jack offers to pay for lunch that day, sends Race and Mush and Blink out to Tibby's with nearly all that is left of his savings. They come back with wrapped parcels of food and cases of root beer, and sit with him in the corner as the younger boys amuse themselves, looking at the day as a holiday, though they can barely move with the cold. Race's back against his knees is reassuring, but he can't get the winter out of his head.


	10. Revelations

**Ten;** Smoke & Mirrors - Opshop

_Jump on board, take a leap of faith  
How can we feel so close now  
Yet be so far away?_

The brick is hard against Racetrack's back; his papers are heavy in his arms, and his voice is hoarse in his throat. A horse trots past, and when it moves, Spot's standing there, hat tilted back from his freckled face. He doesn't say anything, just hoists the papers onto his shoulder and moves towards the stables, knows without looking back that Spot will follow. In the shaky lighting of the stalls, Spot gives him a long, slow look. "You look like shit, Racetrack," he says.

"Mmm."

Eye contact, and neither needs to talk.


End file.
